


From our hands they will melt

by ihearthings_ii



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihearthings_ii/pseuds/ihearthings_ii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_ai/profile?mode=full"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_ai/"><b>ontd_ai</b></a>  kink!meme, Round the Third.</p><p>The prompt was:</p><p>71. KRADAM - Kris loves being fingered. Long and explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From our hands they will melt

Kris has never had this kind of sex before. Which, okay. There was Katy, and there was Jennifer Sanderson before that, and she was older and they slept together five times in total, and it was just because --- okay, him and Katy had promised to be each other’s first and onlies, but Kris just really, really didn’t want it to suck, and Jennifer was fine with letting him practice on her and not telling a soul. (And he really, really hopes she’s still fine with not telling anybody.)

So it stands to reason that when he started fucking around with Adam, well. _Kris has never had this kind of sex before._

Still. Kris is pretty sure that he could have slept with every guy in Conway and still never experienced anything like this. Which may or may not say more about Conway and/or Adam Lambert than anything else.

But yeah. Jennifer had been nice, and the sex had been nice, but he’d never felt really comfortable with her, he’d felt awkward and stupid, and never, ever sexy.

Katy --- he’d loved Katy, loves her still, and the sex had been amazing in the way that sex between two people in love can only ever be.

Their wedding night had been awkward; that’s the whole truth of it. They had waited (or at least, she had) like they had said they would, and they’d both been pretty drunk, and it’d hurt her, and he had been too worked up to be 100% considerate about it. But they got better, they got _good_, and the way she always gave herself over to him made him feel sexy, made him feel like a man.

He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined this. Never imagined sex with a man, and never imagined that having that man’s fingers buried so deep inside him would make him feel better, sexier and more of a man than anything else ever has.

And yet, here he is. Hands tied above his head with those damn glittery handcuffs, and Adam is smirking down at him, fingers scissoring and twisting sharply, knuckles scraping over Kris’s prostate. He leans down, licks a broad stripe down the side of Kris’s neck and blows lightly on it, and Kris shivers and whimpers. “Pay. Attention.” Adam says lowly, “You’re not allowed to think about anything else but what I’m doing to you right now.”

Kris closes his eyes though, because Adam, him and Adam, they’re not like him and Jennifer Sanderson, and they’re not like him and Katy, except sometimes Kris thinks he would like that. Him and Adam, together, it’s the most intense sex Kris has ever had, and it’s sensory overload, and he’s always apprehensive about taking it all in --- it feels like, if he gave himself over completely, he would shatter into a thousand little pieces, and he doesn’t know how he would ever be able to put himself back together.

Part of it is that him and Adam have some kind of weird connection. It sounds ridiculous, and he feels lame trying to ever explain it to anybody; putting it into words makes it sound like one of those harlequin romance novels, makes it sound like much less than what it is.

What it is, is an uncanny awareness of each other that's almost too much, something which, with anybody else would just be kind of weird and almost creepy.

Part of it is that Adam's just really, really awesome in bed, and that Kris is a very eager student.

And then there are Adam’s eyes. Kris has never met anybody who can keep eye contact the way Adam does, it's almost hypnotizing, and the first many times he'd spoken to Adam and Adam had held eye contact through the entire conversation, Kris had gone straight to the bathroom after, to check if he had something on his face, or something stuck in his teeth.

When you're engaged in conversation with Adam, you could be in Times Square 30 seconds before midnight on New Year's Eve, and he'd still make you feel like the only other person there, simply by the way he focuses on you, the way he looks you in the eye. Kris had been drawn to it long before he had realized, had loved the way it made him feel. _Special_. Still, he'd spent a lot of time around Adam looking at his shoes, because it could be too much, sometimes, kind of like looking into the sun.

He knows that some of the other people in the house had been unnerved by it at first, knows that Danny had mistaken it for provocation, or even confrontation back when they were still learning how to live with and around each other.

Basically, Adam keeping eye contact while he's talking about square vs. round toe boots is intense, so Adam keeping eye contact while having sex? It's almost too much. Adam is an open book, and even more so if you know what to look for, and the things that Kris sees in Adam's eyes when they do this, it's everything he's afraid Adam sees in his, and more.

When they fuck, Kris tries not to keep eye contact too much; and Adam always tries to get him to look at him more.

"Kris," Adam says, running his free hand up Kris's belly to his vulnerable throat and round his jaw line, fingertips ghosting over Kris's eyelids.

"Kris, open your eyes." Adam says softly, a foreign note in his voice that almost makes Kris do what he says, but Adam's fingers twitch inside him, and Kris moans and closes his eyes tightly, pressing his face into the soft skin of his under arm.

"Kris," Adam sighs, and he sounds almost disappointed.

"Fine. You're not gonna look at me, I'll just tell you what's going on, then."

Adam's breath ghosts over Kris's face, and he shivers.

Adam licks up the shell of Kris's ear, and Kris startles, pulls at the handcuffs. Adam had carefully wrapped his wrists in soft fleece before putting the cuffs on him, and he's grateful. Despite the fabric, he can already imagine bruises like bracelets on his wrists tomorrow, and the thought thrills him.

Adam's teeth nip and pull at the earlobe, and Kris groans.

"You're all tied up," Adam whispers, breath hot and damp against Kris ear, "you have no idea how you look, do you? And you won't open your eyes and look."

Adam's hand skirts down Kris's chest, teasing and pinching at his nipples, and Kris's surprised intake of air makes Adam chuckle roughly.

"You're so hot like this, Kris," he says, "I can do whatever I want with you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Adam moves, and the next thing Kris feels is a hot, wet mouth closing over one nipple, then the other. Adam's sharp teeth, biting and tugging at his nipples, then that clever tongue soothing across his chest. Kris whimpers, bites his lip.

"Two fingers inside you, baby," Adam says and scissors them teasingly, and _oh_, Kris had almost, almost forgotten about that, but Adam isn't about to let him get away with that.

"Do you feel that, huh Kris? Do you feel my fingers in you?" Adam teases, nipping at his earlobe, and yeah, Kris does.

Kris had never imagined that he'd be so sensitive inside, never imagined that if someone stuck their fingers in his ass, he'd be able to feel every ridge and line, never imagined how much it would turn him on.

And Adam has great fingers too. His hands are large, and his fingers fit him, long and strong, the pads of his fingers just slightly calloused --- Kris is trying to teach him how to play the guitar.

"Can you take one more? Kris?" And Kris nods frantically, he can, he really can; and Adam pushes in with three fingers this time, and Kris feels his legs fall open. Adam chuckles again, "That's it, baby."

"That's it," he repeats, almost too low for Kris to hear, and he pulls his fingers out slowly, so slowly, and pushes them back in like he has all the time in the world, the fucking tease.

"Hmmmm," Adam says with appreciation, nosing at where Kris's jaw meets his ear, "you're so fucking hot inside, baby, so tight. You'd think we hadn't done this before."

And his fingers keep fucking Kris open so fucking slowly Kris thinks he's going to lose his mind.   
"I fucking love you like this," Adam continues, "you're so hot for it, aren't you, baby? You love my fingers in you." And he dips the tips of his fingers inside, just the very tips and Kris whimpers in frustration, and wiggles to get more inside.

Maybe he should be ashamed of how he's acting; maybe he should try and be more in control of the whole situation, maybe he just shouldn't act like he's going to die if Adam doesn't get his fingers inside him right the fuck now, but Adam makes him so hot, makes him feel so wanted and sexy that he honestly doesn't give a fuck how it makes him look, and even when he does kind of feel and act like a wanton, needy hussy, Adam never says anything mean about it. It makes Kris feel oddly safe.

Adam plunges his fingers deep, deep inside, and the pressure against his prostate is just right, and Kris keens.

"Doesn't that feel good? Tell me, Kris, tell me how good it feels," and Kris wants to scream, he can't be expected to put a sentence together right now.

"Unngh," he says, "Adam."

Adam stills his fingers, briefly kisses Kris's mouth, "C'mon baby. Tell me."

"Adam, please," Kris pants, and he can just imagine the smirk on Adam's face when he says, "Mmmm, please what, Kris?"

"I love it, I love it, I love it," he gasps, furiously moving his hips, needing friction and for Adam to just. fucking. move his fingers.

"Thank you, that's much better," Adam says, and he has the audacity to actually sound amused.

He starts fucking his fingers in and out, fast and rough and just fucking _perfect_, and Kris throws his head back, can't help the moan that escapes.

Adam laps at the hollow at the base of his throat saying, "Isn't that so much better?" and Kris really hopes he isn't expecting an answer.

"I love how much you love this," Adam says, wonder in his voice, "I bet I could make you come just like this, huh? Nothing but my fingers."

Kris really fucking hopes not. He's so hard, so hard, and he can feel wetness on his belly, and he loves this, he does, but if Adam doesn't touch his dick soon, he's going to cry.

Adam licks a stripe down the underside of Kris's dick, and Kris's hips jerk, and when Adam blows cool air over the wetness, Kris arches off the bed and lets out a very undignified sound.

Adam _giggles_. He actually giggles, and Kris is going to kill him, just as soon as Adam makes him come, Kris is going to kill him.

"Just like this," Adam says, "you're going to come just like this."

Then he twists his fingers sharply and Kris cries out, and okay, okay yeah, maybe Adam’s right about that.

There’s a cold drizzle of lube and he squirms a little, but Adam just hums and pushes his fingers back inside, making Kris’s breath stutter.

“That’s four, baby,” Adam says against his ear, “four fingers. You feel that? Maybe sometime I’ll make you take all five.” Kris can’t imagine how that could ever work, but four is amazing, four fucking blows his mind, stretching him so thin and wide, and he presses his heels down against the bed, working his hips against Adam’s hand, trying to get faster, harder, _more_.

“Fuck,” Adam says, “ baby you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Kris doesn’t think Adam has any idea what he’s doing to *Kris*, which is basically making him lose his mind. He’s wound so tightly, every muscle in his body is tensed up, everything is about Adam and the way he’s making Kris feel. Adam’s damp breath against his ear, his sharp little teeth tugging on Kris’s earlobe, the scratch of Adam’s jeans against Kris’s bare legs, the feel of Adam’s hair tickling Kris’s neck, Adam’s hand roaming Kris’s chest and the other, four fingers, deeps as they can go inside Kris.

The taste of Adam on his tongue, the sharp smell of sweat and come in his nostrils, and Adam’s voice so sweet and wicked in his ear; Kris’s entire world is reduced to Adam.

“Come on baby, come for me,” Adam whispers, driving his fingers in, pulling all the way out, again and again, harder, faster, and Kris loves it, but he needs, he just needs.

“Kris, please look at me,” and there’s something about his voice that startles Kris into opening his eyes and locking eyes with Adam’s just as Adam drives his fingers deep, deep inside, and Kris’s vision crumbles at the edges and goes white.

*

Adam’s smile is smug at the corners even as he’s undoing the cuffs and kissing Kris’s raw wrists tenderly.

“Mmmngph,” Kris says and Adam nods.

“Next time I’ll try with five,” he says, and Kris can’t wait.


End file.
